What is't that moves your highness?
MACBETH Which of you have done this?
Lords What, my good lord?
MACBETH Thou canst not say I did it: never shake
Thy gory locks at me.
ROSS Gentlemen, rise: his highness is not well.
LADY MACBETH Sit, worthy friends: my lord is often thus,
And hath been from his youth: pray you, keep seat;
The fit is momentary; upon a thought
He will again be well: if much you note him,
You shall offend him and extend his passion:
Feed, and regard him not. Are you a man?
MACBETH Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on that
Which might appal the devil.
LADY MACBETH O proper stuff!
This is the very painting of your fear:
This is the air-drawn dagger which, you said,
Led you to Duncan. O, these flaws and starts,
Impostors to true fear, would well become
A woman's story at a winter's fire,
Authorized by her grandam. Shame itself!
Why do you make such faces? When all's done,
You look but on a stool.
MACBETH Prithee, see there! behold! look! lo!
how say you?
Why, what care I? If thou canst nod, speak too.
If charnel-houses and our graves must send
Those that we bury back, our monuments
Shall be the maws of kites.
[GHOST OF BANQUO vanishes]
LADY MACBETH What, quite unmann'd in folly?
MACBETH If I stand here, I saw him.
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